I wish there was a way for me to encapsulate and share with you this year. For all of the words I know, there is no way to capture every thought, sight and sound that passes with each season. I can only relate to you what I deem important. You may not find it so but someone, somewhere just might and that is what gives me leave to write these things.
I am but a youth in the span of ages and so I call those less experienced, children, playing in a sandbox of life while the world spins around them. I do not fault them since every so often I too, must shake grains from the niches and cracks in my mind.
I can blame things on Saturn or Karma or the nameless universe as I may, but the fact remains that the floodgates have been opened and once the thoughts began to pour, the deluge could not be stopped.
I wax poetic and possibly senseless. Onwards to a point I go, maybe one that I shall not reach, but the journey is in fact the destination.
Saturn shakes his lithe body at me and cavorts in such a manner as to present me with his bare fanny for me to kiss. All those things that I did not want to bear he thrust in my face and forced me acknowledge. I had no choice but to stand firm and now must humbly thank him for giving me back my strength. Never was it in my tiny frame, but always was solid in my mind if I would but trust it to be so.
I spoke to an acquaintance and was showered with compliments that I sought to duck so adroitly, believing myself unworthy of such an assault. In the end I had to bow and accept that although what was said may have been mere oral flatulence, there was a ring of truth to it. It is not the physical that people fear, but the being, the mind and soul housed in this small package. My words can be as smooth and pleasing as cool silk on a summer day brushing against fevered brow. Or they can be barbed and nettled, flaying skin from the unsuspecting. The arched brow. The caustic sneer. The sardonic laugh. These are causes for many to quake because; people in general do not like to be frowned upon. Especially not by one they deem to be so much less. "How dare she?" they ask. "I have nameless accomplishments and boundless material items at my disposal while she has accomplished nothing and has nothing (in my estimation) yet she looks at me as if I were offal to be scraped from the bottom of her shoe." I dare because I can. I am no better than you and you no better than me yet you allow me to gaze at you in thinly veiled contempt. I dare because you dare. I dare because you let me. Were you to have faith in yourself that power would be pulled from me. I know this because I am learning with each passing moment to take that self-same power away from others and bring it firmly into my capable hands. I have made the mistake too often of making myself small beneath others that I erroneously thought I should envy or look up to. But ants, every one of us ants, I look up to no one. Sure I appreciate the likes of Ms. Sarfo who has her proverbial shit firmly together, or Ms. Knox who is a solid soul, but looking up to them would require an unnatural stretching of my neck. I am no contortionist! I admire them and look only up to the heavens that watch us daily. I hope you can understand what I mean.
My brother's humor struck me solidly across the chest with such force that I gasped for air. Winded, I begged him to stop. Do not plague me with those things that I fear, that make me less whole. And he acquiesced, only for a moment, before battering at me again. He demanded, with a rueful laugh, that I face those things that make me uncomfortable so that I could take from them that power which made me quake. In fear no less. And we laughed. Until I noticed that the person he made much mockery of had decided to emulate a style that I frequent. Anger was my next reaction. "How dare she?" I asked. "How dare she do things in a way that I do them knowing full well that there is no love lost between us." Then he turned the laughter upon me. How dare I not realize that mimicry (especially from those that hold no good thoughts of you) is the sincerest form of flattery. How dare I not realize that she too must find her way, even looking to someone she does not respect for her path. How dare I not allow her to emulate me even as I have emulated others, while I am sure in the knowledge she does not recognize what she does. Who was I to tell anyone what to and not to do when I chafe at the bit of control any chance I get. Who was I indeed? And so it was put to rest. Go ahead, laugh when I stumble but still see me, loathe me, watch me, ape me, adore me. Verily I say unto thee, QUAKE. Then the Universe took a bow.
I then found that a door I thought closed was ajar, giving a peek, to the one that dared to look, into my so called life. "How dare he?" I shouted. "How dare he when he was the one that made himself absent from my doings. What right has he to ask and be privy to my daily activities?" Again I was greeted with a laugh. How dare you, admonished my sistergirl. How dare you not close your own doors? How dare you not realize that you are by far not disposable and others will peek as they may at things they desire, they do not understand and things that excite them that they cannot possibly handle? So I slept and dreamt and wrote anew, then smiled and closed the door. I leave no portals cracked for easy entry, no paths cleared for return. I do not go backward, only forward into the unknown with all that it holds for me. Yet again I intone, QUAKE. Then the Universe curtsied.
Days ago I was screamed at as if I were a child and told that I was not grown, I did not have my priorities in order, I do not yet have my shit together and I did not do or have many other things that it is felt I should have. And I wept disconsolately. "Alas!" I cried. "Alas I do not live up to the measure of a person whose opinion I deeply respect." Then Karma crept up behind us and struck. The rapier of payback pierced through the nonsense to remind that person that they were in no place to judge. I did not laugh or offer a sarcastic "I told you so." or even my famous "hold that." Instead, I looked on quietly and learned what I was to discover from that. No man can judge me. I should court only my own approval and act in a manner that allows me to sleep with myself at night. I live in my head. Alone. Once again, QUAKE. Then the Universe waved delightedly.
I was propositioned and proposed to, and found that I had to refuse both requests. When a caterpillar is ensconced in a cocoon it is common knowledge that a flying thing will emerge, butterfly or moth, and it will take to the skies. I am wrapped in my own cocoon even as I write this. However, humans tend to morph into beings of their own making. I have no idea what will be born on the other side so I cannot ask someone to bond to me having no idea who I will be. It is a sad thing. For those that seek to be a compliment to my life it means that I cannot be with them. For me it means more time alone. Still it is as it should be, and it is the truth. I cannot be with anyone else until I fully learn to be with myself. This is a process that began a scant few weeks ago. I ache with growing pains, like a changeling once kept in a cage whose bones nattered against her skin. Free now, they burst forth in painful angles and curves, filling out the slack and straining at the tight. Free from clouds, the light stings my eyes. Free from self imposed bonds, my mind leaps and falls. Horribly I must accept my imperfections. Awfully I must accept what is for me and what cannot be. These are the most beautiful pains.
Pretty prose aside.
I know what I have just committed, this act of throwing words into the self same universe, is not a thing that many will understand, or care to. But it is for me. I do what I must because I still grow and change. The rate is breathtaking. I am not above my normal behavior, (tomfoolery of all kinds and such) nor am I below anyone's esteem. I am simply becoming myself at a breakneck speed. They say (and who so ever is a part of the phenomenon named "they" are wholeheartedly welcome to kiss my ass) that growth is supposed to be a silent thing kept to one's self. I say they are full of shit. Who are they to judge the means and ways of my growth? "Well if you tell everyone what you are doing, then everyone will have something to say when you fail." What care do I have for what others say? They will prattle on foolishly regardless of what happens to me. Should I remain wallowing in muck so as to avoid what "they" have to say? Not another moment of it. Let them raise their voices to the wind as they may. So you expect me to fail? Good for you. Many will be the hour that you waste concentrating on my demise instead of your own. And how on this good earth is there any failure involved in becoming one's self? There is NO WAY to fail at being you, no matter what anyone else thinks of it. Does the fact that I share my pitfalls and tribulations, my triumphs and discoveries make the act of growth any less? When a child gains an inch, does it make the new height any less real because we see it? Shut up fools. The whole lot of you needs to shut your collectively gaping maws. These things that change within me with each passing moment are all but intangible. If I do not share them I am not doing what I am so obviously here to do for myself. I share and mayhap someone else will find food for their own growth with in my cryptic words and tangled meanings.
QUAKE MOTHERFUCKERS... in fear and such
I come into my own as much as some of you would have it not be so.
- days worth of drunken skylarking soon to follow...
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